


The Pacifists

by JenCforCarolina



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 15:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenCforCarolina/pseuds/JenCforCarolina
Summary: They said she lived among a band of Guardians who do not fight, who refuse to take up arms. Most are skeptical, some are offended. One is very envious.





	The Pacifists

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhh boy this is an OLD wip. Set in the middle of ROI.

Efrideet couldn’t tell if the waiting Warlock was shy or polite. He was too far away to discern an expression, but close enough for her to tell without a doubt his eyes were on her. She watched him back, surreptitiously, between bright smiles and respectful nods to the others that approached her stand.

He let a few pass him, gather in the crude line before her. He was waiting, then, to speak with her alone. Her thoughts went immediately to the weapons she traded for displays of valor in the Iron Banner. Some had thought they could steal from her, she was not Lord Saladin after all. They had found themselves at the bottoms of the rocky chutes behind her station. Afterwards, Shaxx had offered crates with locks that only her Ghost could open.

She asked him then: _“But what if I am to fall, and the weapons are needed?” They were not only boons, but the contingency of the Iron Temple. Armories in plain sight._

_“Then we would throw the boxes from the cliffs, and jump after. They will crack open and be at our feet when we revive.” Shaxx had boomed, and they had shared a laugh at the thought. Still, she left the weapons unsealed._

Warlock, Warlock. Long robes with the red of mahogany heartwood. She couldn’t remember meeting him. He waited, and she waited, lingering in her conversations, dalling in her trade. Prolonging the meeting that was putting uneasiness to her spine.

Finally, her last visitor trickled away, inspecting his new sidearm. The Warlock, as expected, approached. Efrideet kept her posture cool and relaxed. Always better to let your opponent believe you were unprepared.

She inspected him as he drew closer. He seemed uncertain of himself, almost. Ah, she could handle that.

“Here for the Banner, Warlock?” An invitation, jovial, cheerful. “A few days late but you’ve still got a chance.” The shy types always wanted to hear her compare them to one of the fabled Iron Lords. Titans and Hunters were easier, mention beloved Jolder, regal Perun, and you can almost see the stars in their eyes. But Warlocks? Felwinter had been crass, Timur an enigma, Skorri an anomaly. She always struggled to find something to say about them that would bolster a fighting spirit.

Luckily, this Guardian let out a hearty laugh before she could dwell too long. “I’m not a participant, no.” He chuckled. Efrideet offered him a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, come on now. You can’t be that bad. Let me see your Crucible record, your Ghost can patch it over.”

He shook his head. “Never been in.”

“Gutsy.” She nodded in genuine respect. “Vanguard recommendation is required in that case, though.” It was Saladin’s rule from before she had returned. He wanted his Banner to be a true challenge. “Don’t want to balance teams unfairly. That’s what happens when people lie about their skill, boast what they cannot achieve.”

Another chuckle. “I know. Haven’t got a recommendation either.”

She raised an eyebrow, began to wonder if her time was being wasted. “What can I do for you, then?”

He sighed, something ancient and forlorn. The smile he settled into had some kind of weary affection. “Perhaps satisfy some mere curiosity. I’m glad to know the white hairs I keep finding are my imagination. And our minds last some time, past the end of a normal lifespan, it seems.”  
She took her hands from her hips, folded them quite deliberately over her chest.

“I’m not really following.” Efrideet tried to curb her displeasure. “And I do have some work…”

“Right, sorry.” He raised his hands, a polite gesture of apologetic palms. “We met once, I just wondered if you remembered, did not expect you to.”

“I see a lot of Guardians every day, in the weeks I’ve been back at the temple. My deepest apology if I don’t recall every one of them.” 

“Oh, no!” He huffed a laugh. “No, it was quite a while ago, I really did not expect you to remember. In all honesty I didn’t remember what you looked like, just knew the name.”

“Well, the legends have grown in my absence.” She rationalized, but faltered. “We met… long ago? More than a few months?”

The Warlock nodded once, slowly, sagely.

“You’re a very old man.” She murmured.

“I am.” He affirmed. “You told me something once. Survival is all one war, there are many fights on many fields at the same time. Not everyone fights the same. I took that to heart, very much so.”

“I’m flattered.” She rolled the words around in her head, yes it sounded like something she’d have said long ago. She knew now the world was much less cut-and-dry.

“It put me deeply at peace, but I am still looking for something, in all these years. Like minded people.”

She peered at him, tilted her head. “Of what do you mean?”

“You’re a legend of battle Efrideet, but they say you left for people who are surely not. I would very much like to meet my fellows.” 

“I do not disclose their whereabouts for their safety.” She recited. The rumor had spread quickly, she could not deny it. So she carried on her defense on autopilot. The people she knew, she could not allow others to find them, manipulate them.

“I am no danger.” He assured her. “I wish not to change their ways, nor my own.” He was so certain, maintaining a steady stare. She let silence lapse, considering him. 

“Tell you what. Find me again in three days time, when the banner has ended. Tell me stories of your centuries since last we met, and perhaps I will consider telling you some of mine.”

“A fair bargain.” He crowed. Seemed positively delighted at the mere prospect of knowledge. Perhaps he would not have been insulted being compared to Timur.

“What was your name? I’m sorry I did not remember it.”

“I didn’t have one yet when we last spoke, it’s no fault of yours. Now I am called Mack.”

“Alright Mack. Three days. Be punctual, I may head out on a hunt if you take too long.”

“Then I’ll wait.” He chuckled. “I have the patience of a zephyr in a valley, but I’ll wait. A little while longer will not hurt.”

Efrideet nodded, an end to the conversation, and he bowed and took his leave, sweeping away in that dignified way Warlocks with purpose did. There was a little bit of the ancients in him, yes she saw his age. She clasped her hands and receded to her dias, to wait and think. It would take some convincing, but she could see herself making an exception for this one.


End file.
